


Kiss Tomorrow Goodbye

by dark_nexus17



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Explicit Sex, M/M, PWP, Smut, cursing, no happy endings here i'm afraid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-18
Updated: 2013-09-18
Packaged: 2017-12-26 23:32:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/971577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dark_nexus17/pseuds/dark_nexus17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This had always been easy for them, the physical part of their relationship. Once they’d begun it became the one place they could come together, where the unspoken words and years of pain and loss that hovered between them melted away.</p><p>In which Dean drowns his sorrows in alcohol, and then Cas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kiss Tomorrow Goodbye

**Author's Note:**

> Title: Kiss Tomorrow Goodbye
> 
> Pairings: Dean/Cas
> 
> Warnings: Sex. Graphic sex. Cursing. Angst. Pretty much PWP.
> 
> Both the title and the opening line are taken from Luke Bryan’s ‘Kiss Tomorrow Goodbye’
> 
> As usual, all mistakes are my own. And I haven’t written smut in a while, so sorry if it’s a bit naff.
> 
> Also on ff.net and tumblr

'All we do right is make love, and we both know now that ain't enough,'

Dean laughed bitterly into his glass, picking it up and letting the whiskey in it slide down his throat, relishing the faint burn it left behind.

"Country-fucking-music. Brilliant." He muttered.

 He was holed up in some bar he'd stumbled into; despite having been in the area on and off for a few months now, he’d never been in it before. Hell, he didn't even really know where he was, he'd just gotten into the Impala and drove, until he'd realised that driving alone wasn't going to make him feel better, get him out of his head effectively enough to make him forget the shitty day he’d had. He'd seen the bar sign and it had drawn him in like a beacon, promising to dull the ache in his head. He could be miles further away from the bunker than he’d originally thought for all he knew, not that he cared.

"You wanting another one of those brother?" said a voice, pulling him away from his train of thought.

 He looked up and was faced with one of the bartenders, who was eyeing him a little warily, as if unsure of how best to approach a man who'd turned up quarter of an hour ago and drank at least four glasses of whiskey. Dean lifted one corner of his mouth into some semblance of a smile; there was no need to be rude after all.

"Sure," he replied, eyes following the man as he moved away to fetch more of the whiskey that Dean had been drinking. The guy sort of reminded him of Benny; he had the same build, carried himself with the same easy grace Benny had, he even had the same tone to his soft Southern accent. Dean swallowed around the lump that had formed in his throat, shaking his head to clear the unwanted reminder. Benny was gone now; Dean had fucked him up like every other god damned thing he touched.

"Here," the bartender said, once again interrupting his thoughts. Dean watched as the guy poured a generous measure of whiskey into Dean’s previously empty glass: he reached for his wallet, but the bartender waved it away, saying;

"This one's on me brother, you look like you need it." Dean grinned humourlessly, raising his glass to the man, before taking a large sip of the drink.

"Dude," he said, voice a little rough from the alcohol, "You have no idea."

He downed the rest of his drink, and the bartender refilled it.

"Need an ear?" He asked Dean, "I hear it helps to get things off your chest sometimes."

And Dean was drunk enough to think; why the hell not. He took another sip of whiskey, and then he began.

***

It had been a pretty normal day. Dean had woken up, leaving Cas in bed, and had washed, dressed and put some laundry on, before heading to the kitchen to start breakfast. Their little wayward group was currently six strong, comprising of Sam and Dean, Cas, Kevin, Charlie and Crowley, to Dean's everlasting annoyance. Today though, it was just the three of them, the original Team Free Will. With the others all elsewhere, Dean had wanted a peaceful day, a chance to recuperate, as a family, before things got crazy again. He'd wash Baby, they'd do a little research, and maybe he'd get to spend some private time with Cas in the safety of their own bed. Things had been somewhat off between the two of them recently, but Cas had always been a little strange, and had become more so after the fall, prone to fits of muteness and silent rage. This was nothing out of the ordinary; Dean knew that it had to be hard on Cas, humanity.

The first blow had been the lack of eggs, which Cas was supposed to have picked up on his supply run yesterday, but had obviously forgotten. It wasn't really a problem though; Dean had pulled a pack of bacon from the refrigerator and settled for making bacon sandwiches. When they were near to done, he'd gone to fetch Cas from their room, Sam having already been drawn from his bed by the smell of frying bacon. After dragging a reluctant Castiel from their bed, the former angel refused the sandwich Dean had made him, in favour of muesli, despite Dean's pleas for his lover to eat normal food instead of 'some freaky health crap’. Following breakfast Cas had used up all the hot water in the shower that they shared (each bathroom having its own hot water tank, which explained the awesome water pressure in the showers). By the time Dean got outside go work on Baby, he was cold, pissed off, and sick to death of pretty much everything. He managed to calm down a little before lunch time, but the sight of Cas and Sam, heads bent over a book together, whispering about some odd topic or other, got under Dean's skin for some reason, and he'd ended up snapping at both of them. This resulted in a hurt, reproachful look from Sam, and a raised eyebrow from Castiel, which made him feel both guilty, for taking out his bad mood on his brother, and furious at Cas' shitty devil-may-care attitude. The rest of day had progressed in much the same way; Cas was prickly and contrary, and Sam was avoiding them both due to the tension crackling between them. Eventually, Dean had snapped.

“What the fuck is your problem Cas?” he’d snarled when Cas had refused to help Dean clean up after dinner, in favour of returning to their room to read some book which was written in what looked like gibberish to Dean.

“There is no problem Dean.” Cas had replied, no trace of emotion, sarcasm or otherwise in his voice. This had only served to enrage Dean further.

“Then why won’t you help me with the damn dishes? You know Sam’s still sick, the least you could do is pull your weight round here.”

Cas tiled his head at Dean, reminding him forcefully of when Cas was still an angel, trying to figure out some aspect of Dean’s behaviour.

“You’re angry.” Cas stated, after a pause.    

“No shit, Sherlock.” Dean said, voice rising in volume, “You’ve been off with me all week, you do fuck all around the place and now you’re just sitting there and looking at me as if I’ve got no right to be angry.”

There was a beat of silence before Castiel replied;

“I don’t know what you want me to say.”     

“Jesus Cas,” Dean growled, running a hand over his face, “I don’t know. How about ‘I’m sorry for being a total dick’?” he suggested angrily.

“I ...” Cas began, but Dean cut across him,

“You’re not sorry Cas, damn it! You can’t just say it and not mean it. You’re _never_ fucking sorry, you just expect us to put up with all the shit you pull. You’re not even trying, I mean really Cas, why are you still here with me and Sammy? If you don’t want to be here, why don’t you just fucking leave already?” Dean yelled, breathing heavily.

“If that’s what you want.” Cas replied, voice icy cold, but Dean had been too far gone to care. He could’ve sworn he’d seen red.

“It’s not about what I want Cas, what do you want? You’re supposed to be human but you don’t _feel_ anything, you don’t want anything. You don’t know what you want, and you sure as hell don’t know anything about what _I_ want, we just don’t, this isn’t going to work.” Dean said, voice trailing off at the end, voice overcome with anger and pain. He’d stormed out of the room and barrelled straight into a concerned Sam. Not wanting to deal with his brother and his need to talk about Dean’s feelings, he’d ran straight up the stairs and out to the Impala, switched her on, blasted some Metallica and drove, his words and Cas rattling around in his head. When it got too much, he’d pulled over, and ended up in this bar, the name of which he couldn’t remember if you paid him.

“Sounds rough.” The bartender said sympathetically, reminding Dean that he’d just chosen to blab about his crappy day to some poor sod who probably couldn’t give less of a shit.

“Yeah, you could say that.” Dean replied with a humourless chuckle, downing the rest of the drink that was in front of him. He stood and placed a handful of bills on the counter, ignoring the words of protest from his new found confidant.

“I gotta go,” Dean said, trying to conjure a smile, “My brother’ll be worried.”

“Bet that boyfriend of yours will be too, you should sort things out.” The bartended advised, but Dean just shook his head. The bartended shrugged and then held out his hand, which Dean shook.     

“I’m Alex by the way.” The man offered.

“Dean.” Dean replied, “Thanks for the company.” he added, and with a fleeting grimace that was supposed to have been a smile he walked away from the bar. He was in no condition to drive, but he didn’t have anywhere to go but home, and he’d driven drunk plenty of times before.

Thankfully he managed to make it home without crashing; clearly all that experience of driving under the influence previous to this occasion came in handy. Upon letting himself into the bunker he was confronted by Sam, who looked like he’d been standing there for quite some time.

“Hey.” Dean said, by way of greeting.          

“Dean are you alright? You’ve been gone for a while.” Sam questioned, obviously concerned.    

“’M fine Sammy.” Dean assured his little brother, reaching out to pat him on the arm, he couldn’t be bothered to reach for his shoulder, and why the hell was Sam so tall anyway?

“Cas is leaving.”

It took a moment for the words to filter through the haze of alcohol clouding Dean’s mind, and register in the part of his brain that was still aware. They fell with a clang, and Dean felt his stomach drop sharply, like the floor had just been pulled from under him. He tried to make sense of the words.     

“What on a hunt, is Charlie okay?” he heard himself say. Yeah, that made sense, he rationalised. Charlie and Cas had become fast friends and Cas regularly accompanied her on hunts, or acted as back up when things got a little too hairy out in the field.

“No.” Sam replied, gazing at Dean with a mixture of sadness and pity. “He’s leaving in the morning Dean, and I don’t think he’s planning on coming back any time soon. He’s been considering it for a while.”

Dean processed this.

“Well then, fuck him.” He responded. “Fuck him. He can leave for all I care; God knows he doesn’t like it here.”

“Dean.” Sam said reproachfully. “You know it isn’t like that. Cas loves you, you idiot. Whatever you said, whatever he said, you can sort it out, I know you don’t like talking about feelings Dean, but this is ridiculous. Cas is family, and we need him. Tell him he doesn’t need to go, or if he does, make sure he’s going to come back.”    

Dean laughed, somewhat hysterically.

“Yeah Sammy, sure he loves me. Why the fuck does he keep leaving then? Family’s not supposed to leave; they’re supposed to stick around through all the crap that goes on.  You’re supposed to be able to rely on family. And Cas keeps running out on us, so he can’t be family, capisce?”

He shoved past Sam, whose expression was fast forming into a bitchface, and headed for his room. A room he just happened to share with Cas. When he reached it however, the sight that met him stopped him dead in his tracks. All the accents that made the room Cas’ as well as his were gone from their various places, and were lying in a holdall, which lay open on the bed, filled with what seemed like all Cas’ worldly possessions. The owner of the items in question was bent over the holdall, back facing Dean, carefully folding a t-shirt, which he then placed in the bag in front of him. Dean’s breath caught in his throat.

“So it’s true then.” He managed to choke out. “You’re leaving.”

Cas stiffened upon hearing his voice, and then turned to face Dean.

“Yes.” The former angel replied, looking at Dean with an expression Dean couldn’t quite decipher, it seemed almost hopeful, but that could easily be a figment of his imagination, conjured by the alcohol he had consumed.

“Okay.” Dean said, walking over to the bed and sitting down heavily, a little unbalanced.

“You’re drunk.” Cas stated after a moment, his voice taking on a resigned tone.

“Yeah Cas, I’m drunk.” Dean answered tiredly, shoving the duffel bag to the floor. He heard Cas sigh, and felt him sit down next to him, close, like they used to sit, before everything went to hell. He didn’t know what to say, what to do, part of him wanted to tell Cas to hurry up and get the hell out, part of him wanted to beg and plead with his friend to stay. He settled for something solid; he turned to Cas and drew him in for a slow, heavy kiss, full of promise and things he couldn’t say. Cas sighed softly against his lips, opening his mouth to allow Dean’s tongue entry. Dean quickly took advantage of Cas’ willingness, sweeping his tongue over Cas’ bottom lip and into the slick, familiar heat of his mouth. This had always been easy for them, the physical part of their relationship. Once they’d begun it became the one place they could come together, where the unspoken words and years of pain and loss that hovered between them melted away.

The kiss became more heated and Dean gasped as Cas pushed him down onto the bed, breaking the kiss for a moment in order to pull his, and then Dean’s shirt off. Dean’s mouth met Cas’ again, forcefully, but Cas slowed him, soothed him, whispering sweet nothings between kisses, as his fingers trailed lightly over the planes of Dean’s chest and stomach.

“Mmm, Cas.” Dean moaned, arching into the touch, body begging for more.

Cas pressed one last kiss to Dean’s lips before moving to kiss Dean’s jaw and neck, slowly and carefully working his way down to Dean’s collarbone, and then his chest. He paused briefly in his administrations to lick and nip at Dean’s nipples, before continuing his trail of kisses down Dean’s stomach, coming to rest at the line of Dean’s jeans. Dean fisted his hands into Cas’ hair as Cas removed Dean’s belt and jeans. He knew, somewhere in the back of his mind, that he should be convincing Cas to stay, that they should be talking instead of making love. Cas definitely shouldn’t be about to blow him, but his body was betraying him, arching up into Cas’ hold. He watched with lidded eyes as Castiel removed his own jeans, and then knelt down on the bed, head close to Dean’s crotch. He breathed gently over the outline of Dean’s member, which was throbbing slightly beneath the cover of his boxers. Cas then ran his teeth carefully over the head, eliciting a gasp from Dean, whose fingers were still threaded through his lovers hair. He heard Cas chuckle slightly as he obligingly removed Dean’s last item of clothing before bending down to return to the task at hand. Cas lapped at his balls, tracing patterns on them with his tongue, before gently taking one into his mouth and sucking on it. Dean squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself not to come there and then as Cas’ tongue worked its way up his length, pausing to suck and nip at the veins and nerves trailing up towards the head, which Cas ghosted over with his mouth, letting Dean feel his warm breath, before working his way down again. Finally Cas took Dean into his mouth and swallowed him down, causing Dean to thrust involuntarily, letting out a lust-filled groan. Cas chuckled around Dean and the vibrations sent him closer to the edge. He fisted one hand into the sheets, keeping the other in Cas’ hair in an attempt to stay grounded, trying desperately to control his thrusts. When Cas hollowed out his cheeks, increasing the pressure to an almost unbearable level, Dean came hard, body spasming as he rode out his orgasm. Cas worked him through it, sucking down every last drop and licking him clean.

He came round a couple of minutes later, afterglow still making things a little hazy, to find Cas searching for the lube in the bedside table.,

“You going to fuck me Cas?” he murmured huskily. Cas shook his head.

“No Dean, but you can help prepare me if you like.” His lover replied.

The breath caught in Dean’s throat; it wasn’t that he didn’t like it when Cas fucked him because hell, he loved it, but there was something about being buried balls-deep in this particular fallen angel that pushed all his buttons. Dean’s eyes rolled back into his head a little as Cas straddled him, coating his fingers in lube and slowly pressing one into himself.

“Jesus, Cas.” Dean growled, grabbing the lube and slicking his own fingers with shaking hands.

“Dean,” Cas gasped as he pressed his finger further inside himself. “More.” He begged, writhing.

Dean was all too happy to oblige. He ran one of his own fingers slowly around the ring of muscle Cas’ finger was currently penetrating, before sliding it in, relishing the feel of Cas clenching around him. He so wanted to make Cas come undone, to make him need Dean as much as Dean needed him. Moving his finger in deeper, he angled for Cas’ prostrate, eliciting unrestrained moans from the man above him. He gently removed Cas’ own finger, tugging on his hand and encouraging Cas to tease him, though he was already pretty interested, despite his earlier orgasm. Dean began to stretch Cas, adding more lube before sliding a second finger in alongside the first. By the time he got to the third Cas was fucking himself on Dean’s fingers, letting out gasps and moans that only served to increase Dean’s own arousal. After what seemed like an age, Cas moved upwards, causing a wet sound as Dean’s fingers were removed, leaving him open and wanting. Dean watched as Cas carefully lined himself up with the head of Dean’s penis, slowly lowering himself down, inch by torturous inch, until he enveloped Dean, who couldn’t help but moan. He’d never forget how good this felt, how close to Cas he was, how much Cas must trust him to let him do this. He pulled Castiel down in order to kiss him, pouring everything he felt into his lover’s mouth, and began to slowly rock in to Castiel’s tight, wet heat.

“Oh, Dean.” Cas choked out, overcome by sensation. “Dean, please, more, more.”

Dean sped up the rhythm of his thrusts, groaning as Cas thrust down to meet him, driving him in deeper and deeper. The angle soon changed, Dean aiming for Cas’ prostrate, restlessly driving into his partner. The resulting clench, followed by another, and another, drove Dean insane with want and _need_ as he hurtled towards the edge, thrusts become more erratic. He took hold of Cas, determined to pull him into the abyss too, and stroked his length in time with each snap of his hips, moving faster and faster until Cas came with a shout, head thrown back in abandon, pulling Dean with him into bliss.

Cas eventually peeled himself off Dean’s chest, where he had collapsed sweaty and sated after their love making, and Dean moved so as to slide out of Cas, before heading to the bathroom and returning with a washcloth. He gently cleaned Cas, then himself, and then pulled Cas into his arms, burying his face in Cas’ hair as he whispered endearments and promises, and begged him to stay. Later, as they drifted off, he thought he heard Cas whisper;

“I love you too.”

***

When Dean woke the next day, the duffel bag was gone, and a note, with nothing but a number scrawled on it, was laid on the bedside table. Dean felt cold, but he turned over and willed himself back to sleep, praying that the next time he woke, it would be with Cas still in his arms.

 

 


End file.
